


To Win His Spark

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Other, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4680485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker and Sideswipe want to win the attentions of the mech who is clueless to their affections. Step 1: Enter the Festival of the Five. Step 2: ? Step 3: Live Happily Ever After.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon, what canon? Also, self-beta'd.

                “I’m sorry, but we cannot accept this application,” the mech behind the table said, pushing the datapad back towards Sideswipe. He glanced at it before looking back up at the Festival worker.

                Sideswipe cocked his head to the side, blinking in confusion at the slim, forest-green mech. “Why? Is it supposed to be done in calligraphy or something? Do I need to present this in song and dance? The rules to this damn Festival are a little ridiculous, to be honest.”

                The mech, his name badge reading the designation ‘Tail End’, shook his head. “No, there is no special presentation of the application required. That is filled out incorrectly.”

                Sideswipe stared at the other mech for a moment, waiting for elaboration. After several moments, it became obvious an explanation wouldn’t be forthcoming as Tail End merely stared back. “Okayyy. What do I need to change?”

                It was a struggle to stay polite. He had been standing in line for more than two hours. Alone and bored, because Sunstreaker was finishing up his last piece for the gallery opening tonight. And now Sideswipe was being told their application was being denied? How was that even possible?

                “You cannot list two persons on the same application,” Tail End explained, tone verging on condescension. Sideswipe’s fingers clenched into fists at his side, and he took a steadying ventilation before speaking.

                “We have to. Sunstreaker and I are split sparks,” Sideswipe replied patiently. “It says so on the application.”

                Now it was Tail End’s turn to blink in surprise. As the mech floundered, Sideswipe heard someone in the line behind him complain loudly about what was taking so long. He barely resisted the urge to turn around and say or do something which would get him kicked out. There was no way he was waiting in this line again.

                “I…I see. Then you are still disqualified,” Tail End finally said, nudging the device a few inches closer towards Sideswipe. “Thank you. If you could step aside for the next applicant?”

                “Woah, woah, woah!” Sideswipe protested, surging forward. His hips accidentally bumped the folding table and both he and Tail End reached out a hand to steady it. “What’s wrong with being a split spark?”

                Tail End reared back a little, shoulders hunching defensively in the face of Sideswipe’s anger. “It… it’s clearly stated in the rules. Section 4a, paragraph 134e. Bonded mecha are automatically disqualified from entering the Festival tournaments. Split spark twins share a bond, do they not?”

                “Yeah. But that rule is for mechs who _choose_ to bond. Once they form a bond, they can’t take on another. Split sparks can still be interested in and create a bond with another mech – we’re only one spark, after all,” Sideswipe explained testily.

                Tail End looked uncertain. “I… I’m not sure…”

                “Well, then get someone who is,” Sideswipe growled, looming over the table. 

\---

                Thirty minutes later, Sideswipe restlessly prowled the confines of the waiting area Tail End had led him to. It was a small room, barely big enough to hold the table and two chairs in the center of it. Sideswipe had sat in one of the chairs for roughly two minutes before jumping up out of it and beginning to pace, an irritated energy flowing through him that hadn’t abated once Tail End’s flustered faceplates had disappeared behind the door they had come through.

                Sideswipe didn’t understand what all the fuss was about; it all made perfect sense in his and Sunny’s processors. Yeah, they were bonded, in a sense, but they could still take on a mate. And there was one mech in particular they desperately wanted… if they were even allowed to enter the Primus be damned Festival.

                Suddenly, the door reopened, and the large red and blue form of Ultra Magnus ducked and entered through the doorway.

                Sideswipe reflexively stood at attention, despite the fact that the time they had served together had ended millennia ago. “Sir,” Sideswipe greeted respectfully. The former commander had always treated Sunstreaker and himself fairly, earning their admiration early on in their acquaintance.

                “Sideswipe,” Ultra Magnus said warmly. He strode forward, and they clasped forearms in greeting. “How are you and your brother doing?”

                “Oh, you know. Getting by,” Sideswipe said, sitting on the chair Ultra Magnus indicated. They settled at the small table, Ultra Magnus looking absolutely ridiculous as he tried to cram his large form underneath the table. Sideswipe purposely sat sideways, his own long legs sprawling out to the side in order for the other mech to extend his under the table.

                “I think it’s a little more than just ‘getting by’. Tonight is Sunstreaker’s second gallery opening, isn’t it?” Ultra Magnus inquired.

                “Yup. He’s there now, putting some finishing touches on some sculpture or another. It’s why he’s not here with me.”

                “Ah, yes,” Ultra Magnus said, removing a data pad from subspace and laying it on the table in front of them. It was Sideswipe’s; he recognized the chipped edge from where he had accidentally dropped it a few days ago. “You are applying to enter the Festival tournaments.”

                “Yup. Well, just the Mortilus and Adaptus races though. We’re not smart enough for the knowledge based ones, and of course we can’t fly,” Sideswipe explained.

                They had fought as gladiators for years after leaving the service, and neither of them had lost their skills despite their current and more mundane roles in society. If they were going to win any of the races and their prospective mate’s attention, it would have to be through the ritual battle or obstacle course.

                “I see,” Ultra Magnus replied carefully, placing his hands squarely on the table and drawing himself up. “Sideswipe…”

                “Aw, come on,” Sideswipe complained before the other mech could continue. Sideswipe knew that look of determination; that was Magnus’ ‘going into battle’ expression. He knew he was about to get into a fight. And damn if Sideswipe wasn’t going to give him one. “Don’t give me that rulebook slag. You know that bonded rule shouldn’t apply to Sunny and me.”

                “That is open to interpretation,” Ultra Magnus said gently, his expression now one of regret.

                “So, round up a committee and interpret it then,” Sideswipe replied crossly. How could Magnus do this to them? He knew them, know about their spark! “A bonded couple isn’t interested in others or able to create any new bonds. We can. We’re still just one spark.”

                “But two distinct personalities and bodies,” Magnus said. “Think of how it will look to the other contestants and Festival attendants.”

                “Like I give a flying frag,” Sideswipe retorted hotly, a finger stabbing at the tabletop. “This is our right.”

                Ultra Magnus dropped his optics and clenched his jaw. “The rules stand. You are welcome to petition…”

                Sideswipe slammed a fist on the table in the same motion that he stood. Standing put him at optic level with the other mech. Magnus merely looked back at him with a placid gaze. He had never been cowed by their outbursts of anger in the past, and it looked like he wasn’t moved by them now either. “That’s slag! The first race is in three days. Mortilus is right after. Would we even get a reply back in time?” he demanded.

                “The Festival’s leaders will examine your petition and return an answer to you as quickly as possible,” Ultra Magnus said earnestly. “You must understand, Sideswipe. This is not a decision to be made lightly. The Festival is sacred to many and…”

                “Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard that all before,” Sideswipe said with an optic roll. “Just tell me what new form I have to fill out and let me get to it before my frame rusts,” he added bitterly.

                Ultra Magus pushed the data pad across the table, and Sideswipe grabbed it, morosely staring down at the dim surface. “I created a new section to the application in which you can petition against the disqualification. Be as thorough as possible in your reasoning. You can either take it home with you, or if you would like me to wait…”

                “Damn straight you’re waiting,” Sideswipe muttered, flicking a stylus into realspace. “Cuz I’m not going through that fragging line again.”

                “I’m sorry, Sideswipe. I wish there was more I could do for you,” Ultra Magnus said softly.

                As disappointment and anger swirled through his spark, all Sideswipe could do was bite his glossa and apply his stylus to the data pad. He had no idea how he was going to tell his twin this news.

 

~ End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are a little different than other twins...

                “Hey, Sunshine!” Sideswipe announced, striding into the main room of the gallery. His brther was standing in front of a low pedestal, fussing over some sculpture that looked like it was made up entirely of a dozen precariously balanced gears. The odd looking thing was painted black and red and stretched upwards towards the ceiling, towering at least a foot above Sunstreaker’s head.

                “Mmm,” Sunstreaker replied absently. “Back already?”

                Sideswipe came to a halt, starring at his twin incredulously. “’Already’? I’ve been gone for almost four hours!”

                Sunstreaker looked up at that, optics dimming as he likely checked his chronometer for confirmation. “What took you so long? … what did you do?”

                “What in the Pit is _that_ supposed to mean?” Sideswipe retorted, momentarily taken back.

                “Well, it shouldn’t have taken four hours to walk over there and drop off the application. Ergo, _you_ messed something up,” Sunstreaker said snidely.

                Hands curling into fists, Sideswipe had to fight the urge to punch the haughty expression off his brother’s face. “I stood in line for two hours,” he reported through gritted denta. “We’re not the only ones trying to apply for the Festival, you know.”

                Sunstreaker’s head tilted to the side as his optics narrowed. He took a step forward, hand trailing along the edge of the sculpture. “What do you mean ‘trying’? We applied. End of story. Right?”

                Sideswipe’s lips pressed together tightly. Primus, he really wasn’t looking forward to Sunstreaker’s reactions to his next words. He was just going to blow everything out of proportion and blame Sideswipe. As usual.

                “About that…”

                “You fragged something up!” Sunstreaker accused, pointing a finger at him.

                “It wasn’t my fault!” Sideswipe shouted defensively. He knew it! He knew Sunstreaker was going to act like this! “The application was denied. There wasn’t anything I could do about it!”

                “You filled it out wrong! I told you not to list both of our names,” Sunstreaker exclaimed, throwing up his hands in the air.

                “We’re a split spark, Sunstreaker. You think we could hide that during the medical exam? That alone is enough to disqualify us, even if we had entered singly. I spoke to Ultra Magnus; he’s part of the head committee. I filled out a petition, and he’ll take it before the others to see if it gets approved or denied,” Sideswipe explained wearily.

                “You said…”

                “I _know_ what I said!” Sideswipe snapped. “It made sense to me, but even though we’re the same spark, we’re two different frames. We still have an advantage over other mecha, even if only one of us were allowed to enter,” he continued, referring to their innate ability to leech pain from one another and share strength. “Magnus doesn’t think it looks good.”

                Sunstreaker’s shoulders sagged. “But this was going to make things better.”

                Sideswipe knew he was referring to the ever widening chasm between them. They were not like other twins; even though they shared a spark, their personalities were very, very different. They walked differently, talked differently, and often had opposing viewpoints on everything. Many mecha who met them for the first time didn’t even believe they were related, much less twins.

                It had been better in the army. They had still bickered on occasion, but they had been bound together by common goals and experiences. Ever since they had been discharged though, they had been growing farther and farther apart. They fought on a daily basis; exchanging harsh, ugly words meant to wound deep. They had long ago stopped recharging together, and the last time they had spark merged was over a year ago.

                Physically, they couldn’t continue as they had been. It was weakening both halves of their spark. Their doctor was puzzled, and their therapist had thrown up her hands at them long ago. It hadn’t stopped her from encouraging their visits to her on a weekly basis, though. Every time, she would walk them through trust exercises and be baffled when they performed them flawlessly while sniping at one another the entire time.

                Trust wasn’t an issue. Sideswipe trusted his brother with his life and vice versa. He just kinda hated the glitch.

                And vice versa.

                But they still kept going. Because one of the few things they agreed on was that they wanted to get better. They wanted that closeness they had shared when they were younger. Needed it, even.

                Their therapist had encouraged both of them to see other mechs separately and that had actually helped somewhat. Not to bring them closer as such, but to distract them from each other. Invariably though, those relationships didn’t last long. As much as they couldn’t stand one another, they were also incredibly possessive of each other and managed to sabotage each other’s relationships time and time again.

                Finally, someone had suggested they create a trine, like the flight models often did. A third mecha to balance them out. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had looked at one another in perfect, irritating unison and scoffed. They couldn’t agree on anything. How could they agree on a mate, someone other than a one night fling?!

                But they persisted. They had looked at each other’s previous partners, arguing over and over about personalities and quirks and looks. No former acquaintance had been deemed suitable, so for the past year, they had been searching for someone new.

                And they had finally found someone, just when they had been close to giving up completely. Someone they both liked, admired, and respected. His personality perfectly complemented theirs, and as a bonus, he was easy on the optics.

                The only problem? They had all known one another for centuries, although it was only recently that they had become reacquainted. Neither Sunstreaker nor Sideswipe had any idea how to approach him; there was history there, and they didn’t want to give the mech the wrong impression. This wasn’t a one night stand. This was something that would hopefully be lifelong.

                That was when they had come up with the idea of entering the Festival. It was doubtful that the mech they wanted would immediately accept them then and there if they won, especially without any prior warning on their part. But they would at least earn the right to woo him for the next year without interference. Ensure that he was the one for them.

                Sideswipe sagged too. “Yeah. I know. I don’t… I don’t know what else to do, though.”

                Sighing, Sunstreaker rubbed a hand over his face, incidentally smearing a dark substance, probably charcoal, over his cheek. Sideswipe had to smother a grin, less his brother think he was making light of the situation.

                “So they’re going to review the petition? Did Magnus say how long it would take?” Sunstreaker questioned.

                Sideswipe shook his head. “Just that they would hopefully convene tonight or tomorrow and let us know as soon as possible. I told him to hurry. The race of Primus is in three days. I know we weren’t participating, but what if he’s chosen? I mean, he knows practically all the racers.”

                “Wouldn’t that just be slag. It would be our fraggin’ luck,” Sunstreaker spat.

                Sideswipe propped his hands on his hips, raising an orbital ridge at his brother’s language. Ever since Sunstreaker and his art had become popular among the higher social classes, he had been very cognizant of his speech and bearing. It wouldn’t do to remind others of their very humble beginnings, after all.

                That was another point of contention between them; Sideswipe hated the snooty façade Sunstreaker always wore around others. “Careful, Sunny. Your gutter snipe is showing.”

                “Frag you with a rusted wrench,” Sunstreaker snarled. And just like that, the tentative peace they had shared for a moment was gone.  

                “You wish,” Sideswipe retorted, ignoring the hopeful leap in his spark at even the prospect of interfacing his twin. How long had it been now? A year at least. “What are you even doing? The opening’s in another hour,” he said, checking his chronometer. “Is everything ready?”

                 Sunstreaker’s optics turned comically wide. “No! I’m not done here, I have another three pieces to arrange. Primus, the refreshments haven’t even been set up yet! If you hadn’t taken so long, you could have helped,” he said reproachfully.

                 “Then finish your pieces; it won’t take me long to do the drinks,” Sideswipe said, sighing. One more thing to add onto his already long list. One of these days, he was going to hire a party planner. Except they probably wouldn’t last more than twenty minutes with his finicky brother.

                 “Ugh!” Sunstreaker suddenly exclaimed. “I need to wash up too!”

                 Sideswipe looked over to see Sunstreaker brushing at his thighs. Which were spotless, just like the rest of him. Except for that smudge on his cheek, of course. Sideswipe quickly hid a smirk.

                 “You look fine. Not a mark on you,” Sideswipe called over his shoulder as he turned and headed for the back of the building, where the extra supplies were.

                 With any luck, Sunstreaker would get so caught up in arranging the last few pieces of artwork, he’d forget to check himself in a mirror and the mark would go unnoticed. Sunstreaker would be horrified once he found out he’d been hobnobbing with the elite of society while sporting a less than perfect appearance. Sideswipe couldn’t wait to see his brother’s reaction.

 

~ End Chapter

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws up hands in the air*  
> I don't even know what I'm writing right now... this is what the muses want so I'm just hanging on for the ride...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker's gallery opens, bringing in a multitude of guests. Could one of them be the object of the twins' affections?

     It was a near thing, but the doors to the gallery opened right on time.

     Sunstreaker had reluctantly agreed with this brother to forgo a guest list and tickets. Notices had gone out to prior patrons and to all the news vids, but they technically didn’t need the money from ticket sales. This gallery was completely sponsored by his new and very wealthy benefactor, Mirage.

     Their association had helped his original gallery stay afloat since sales of Sunstreaker’s works had dipped over the last few months as city residents became more focused on the upcoming Festival. They had only (and just barely) been making ends meet through Sideswipe’s market dealings. Which had rankled immensely. Sunstreaker didn’t want to have to rely on his brother for anything; he could be successful on his own, fragit.

     Fortunately, Mirage and Sideswipe had met while Sideswipe had been handling the import of a delicate technobeast into the noble’s care. Upon arrival to Mirage’s home, Sideswipe had immediately noticed the multiple pieces of art scattered throughout the abode and had recommended Sunstreaker’s gallery. Two days later, Mirage had visited and he and Sunstreaker had instantly struck up a connection. Mirage had also bought two paintings and a sculpture, ensuring Sunstreaker’s first gallery would remain open for several more months.

     It hadn’t taken long for Mirage to propose a second gallery, one in the wealthier part of town and susceptible to more traffic. Sunstreaker had eagerly agreed to the idea, despite Sideswipe’s misgivings. Sunstreaker’s brother didn’t really like the noble, especially the more he got to know him, and had on more than one occasion disgustedly remarked on how much of an ‘owned’ mech Sunstreaker was.

     Sideswipe didn’t understand the art world at all, especially the relationship between an artist and his patron. It was like it all went in one audial and out the other. Sometimes Sunstreaker didn’t even understand how the two of them were related, much less shared a spark.

     “Ooooh, this one’s pretty,” the mech beside him gushed. Sunstreaker shook himself out of his thoughts. It wouldn’t do to look distracted, especially only an hour after the opening. He needed to appear approachable, especially for prospective buyers or patrons.

     “Thank you. This is one of my earlier pieces,” Sunstreaker remarked. “I was doing a lot of experimenting with colors.”

     “I really like it, Sunny,” Bluestreak exclaimed, raising a hand and tracing patterns in the air above the painting. Sunstreaker had to suppress a wince at the nickname. It fell so easily from Sideswipe’s lips that mecha everywhere assumed it was acceptable. Sunstreaker hated it and wished he could sew his brother’s lips shut. For the rest of his life, preferably.

     They had met Bluestreak centuries ago when he was still a youngling. Sideswipe had found the mech wandering the streets, completely lost, near their first apartment in Kaon. Scared and cold, it hadn’t taken much coaxing from Sideswipe for Bluestreak to follow him home. Once there, the two of them had wrapped Bluestreak in blankets and supplied him with warm Energon while waiting for his guardian to arrive.

     While waiting, the three of them had struck up an instant friendship. They had kept in touch throughout the years, despite all of them eventually leaving Kaon. Recently, Bluestreak and his cousins had relocated to Iacon, where the twins now lived. Prowl, Bluestreak’s eldest cousin, had just taken on leadership of the city’s Enforcers. Bluestreak had been looking for a gift to celebrate his cousin’s promotion and stumbled upon Sunstreaker’s original gallery in a happy accident. Ever since, he had stopped back once or twice a month to chat. Conversations flowed easily between the three of them, and both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked forward to his visits.

     It didn’t hurt that he was also easy on the optics, having grown quite nicely into his adult frame while all three of them had been parted.  

     “I think it would be a great addition to the common room of the orphanage,” a quiet voice spoke up from behind them.

     Sunstreaker startled, turning to see Prowl himself standing behind his cousin.

     “Commander. It’s an honor to have you,” Sunstreaker said, bowing slightly.

     Prowl had been the one who had come to fetch his wayward ward. Bluestreak had been overjoyed to see Prowl, but the other mech had been distant and had merely thanked the twins for keeping watch over the youngling. At first, Sunstreaker had thought him cold and emotionless, but over time, he had realized that Prowl felt as deeply as others; he had just learned to hide it better for his work.

     He always joined Bluestreak on the mech’s monthly visits and had gradually begun to open up to the twins. He was normally quiet, but they were learning that he had a wicked sense of humor and a sharp wit. It was Sideswipe’s goal in life to make the mech laugh, although so far, he had only been able to produce an amused smile in the Enforcer.

     “I wouldn’t miss it,” Prowl replied warmly, grasping Sunstreaker’s forearm when he extended it in greeting. “While our tastes differ, I could never deny the talent in your art.”

     Like Sideswipe, Prowl preferred bland landscapes, although the piece Bluestreak had purchased had been a vibrant depiction of the Praxian crystal gardens. It hung proudly in Prowl’s office, as a reminder of their home city.

     “Thank you. I appreciate that,” Sunstreaker said demurely, gaze subtly assessing Prowl’s frame. Bluestreak had likely dragged the Enforcer out to a public detailer before arriving as both their paint jobs shone despite the dimmer lighting in the gallery. While Prowl was always respectable enough looking, Bluestreak often lamented about how much his cousin didn’t take care of himself.

     “You really think the kids would like it?” Bluestreak asked, still staring at the painting. He worked for the city as an adoption specialist at the local orphanage. All the younglings and sparklings there adored him, and Sunstreaker could easily see why.

     Before Prowl could reply, the bane of Sunstreaker’s existence arrived, ruining the little spot of peace that had existed between the three mechs.

     “Hey, Prowl!” Sideswipe’s cheerfully loud voice heralded his approach. He swept in from the side, and threw an arm around the Enforcer’s shoulder, giving him a brief hug. “How’re things down at the station?”

     “Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker hissed, horrified by the familiarity his twin had shown to a mech they could only, at best, call an acquaintance. He glared at the cube in Sideswipe’s hand; they were serving a very light and refined high grade, but Sunstreaker wouldn’t put it past his brother to throw back multiple cubes and become overcharged. He’d done so multiple times before, and Sunstreaker had almost served mid-grade instead for that very reason.

     “ _What_ , Sunny?” Sideswipe sighed, throwing an irritated glare over his shoulder. “I can’t even say hello to our friends now? Hey, Blue!”

     Sideswipe released Prowl and drew Bluestreak into a full embrace. Bluestreak returned it enthusiastically, sensor panels arching high.

     “Say hello. Don’t maul them,” Sunstreaker chided, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed his brother acting like a fool. “And don’t call me that.”

     “It’s quite all right,” Prowl interjected. “I’m accustomed to Sideswipe’s enthusiasm. I would be alarmed if he did not greet me thusly.”

     “See? He doesn’t mind,” Sideswipe shot back, giving Bluestreak a kiss on the cheek. The other mech smiled up at Sideswipe, doorwings fluttering in a Praxian equivalent of a blush. Sunstreaker was a little surprised that Prowl made no mention of the kiss; he was very protective of his cousin. Instead, he watched Sideswipe with a tolerant optic, the smallest of smiles on his faceplates.

     “So how you want me to greet the Prime then since apparently there are rules to all this?” Sideswipe snarked, waving his cube around. Sunstreaker had to restrain his growl at the splatter of highgrade that sloshed out onto the floor.

     “You’re not important enough to meet Optimus Prime,” Sunstreaker sneered, amused at the very thought.

     “Oh yeah?” Sideswipe replied snidely, jerking his head to the side to indicate the front of the gallery. “You want me to ignore him then? Cuz that’s probably not the politest move ever.”

     Sunstreaker looked over to where his brother had pointed and nearly dropped his own cube. Optimus Prime himself was slowly striding away from the gallery door, trailed by his ever faithful bodyguard, Ironhide.

     “Oh,” he said faintly. “Optimus Prime is here. Here in _my_ gallery.”

     “You’re going to go over and greet him, right, Sunny?” Bluestreak asked, reaching out a hand and nudging him. “That’s so great! The Prime… coming to see _your_ art!”

     “Uh huh,” Sunstreaker murmured, optics devouring the other mech’s form. He was resplendent in his blues and reds, with licks of orange and yellow flames painted along his hips. The mech carried himself so regally, yet he nodded and smiled genuinely to everyone who greeted him.

     Sunstreaker wouldn’t ever admit it, but he had a huge crush on the large mech. He was just so… _mmm_. Sideswipe made fun of him for it at every opportunity.

     “Come on, you gotta say hi,” Sideswipe announced, smoothly sidling up alongside Sunstreaker and taking his arm. He began tugging, trying to get him to move.

     “Stop it!” Sunstreaker hissed, yanking his arm out of his brother’s grip. “I’m not going to run over there like some star-struck youngling!”

     Sideswipe huffed, propping his free hand up on an outflung hip. “Then don’t. Walk over there and greet him like he’s an old friend. Cuz that’s what I’m gonna do.”

     “That’s not Orion anymore! Sideswipe! Get back here!” Sunstreaker called, his brother dancing away from his grasp with a little laugh.

     “Wow. You knew Prime before he was Prime?” Bluestreak asked, optics wide in awe. Even Prowl looked impressed.

     “We all served together. Excuse me, I need to make sure my brother doesn’t cause an incident,” Sunstreaker said in a rush, giving a short bow before hurrying after Sideswipe. Ironhide knew them as their former weapons instructor, but he took Prime’s safety very seriously. It would be just their luck that Sideswipe got shot for approaching too quickly.

     Although not a horrible idea, it would amount to bad press for the gallery, and Sunstreaker couldn’t have that.

     Sunstreaker arrived just as Optimus was reaching out to grasp Sideswipe’s shoulder. Thankfully, Sideswipe was holding very still and not returning the embrace although he was all wide smiles and bright optics. “Thanks for coming, Prime! Sunny’s gonna be so happy… oh, look, here he is!”

     “Sunstreaker!” Optimus exclaimed, turning his attention away from the red-plated menace. “The gallery is beautiful. I was just remarking to Ironhide that I’ve been remiss in visiting your original building.”

     Sunstreaker looked up and saw Ironhide peering around Optimus’ shoulder, intent optics raking down Sunstreaker’s frame a moment before his expression lightened. Presumably, he had been dismissed as a threat.

     “Pit yeah. You’ve done pretty well for yerself, haven’t ya?” the old warrior remarked in his deep bass voice. He didn’t venture out a hand in greeting, but Sunstreaker wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t a tactile mech to begin with and it would tie up an arm if someone chose that very moment to attack his charge.

     “I’ve had some help,” Sunstreaker demurely replied, referring to his generous benefactor. Who had still yet to make an appearance. Knowing Mirage, he would saunter in halfway through the evening, fashionably late as always.

     “Well, course. Siders here has always been good with the numbers, hasn’t he?” Ironhide said, smiling at Sunstreaker’s brother.

     Sunstreaker couldn’t help the frown from crossing his face, and he sidestepped away from his twin. “No, I meant…”

     “Pfft! Sunny’s got some mechs high up in the artsy circles looking out for him,” Sideswipe interjected quickly. “I barely do anything around here; he doesn’t need me.”

     Sunstreaker nodded along approvingly. He most certainly did not need his brother looking out for him as if he were an errant youngling.

     “Oh,” Optimus commented blandly, looking from one twin to the other. “I rather think that’s not true. Nevertheless, independence is a wonderful thing. But I digress. I wanted something for my office, Sunstreaker. Would you be willing to show me around the gallery?”

     “It would be my pleasure!” Sunstreaker replied, practically vibrating in place. Not only would there be a probable sale, but he would be seen chatting with the Prime as if they were old friends. Which they were, but no one knew that besides his brother and himself. And now Prowl and Bluestreak, he supposed. Nevertheless, he and Sideswipe had always enjoyed Orion’s company; the mech had had a calming aura about him even before the Matrix had chosen him as Prime.

     “Very good. I was looking at this one…”

     Sideswipe leaned in and quickly snagged Sunstreaker’s elbow, hissing into his audial. “I’ll circulate and try to answer what questions I can, so keep the bond open, k?”

     Sunstreaker sighed; he hated opening himself up to his twin, hearing his surface thoughts and emotions. They were always so trivial. But his brother had a point; he knew nothing about artwork, even Sunstreaker’s. Would it hurt him to just once listen to Sunstreaker when he talked about art?

     “Fine. Behave yourself,” Sunstreaker added in warning.

     “You too. You get condescending to mecha who don’t know about this stuff, so play nice for once, huh?” Sideswipe shot back, frowning. With an irritated shake of his head, he released Sunstreaker and slipped away into the crowd. 

 

~ End Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus and Sunstreaker chat; Sunstreaker finds out something about Sideswipe

“I’ll have it shipped to you within the next three days. Actually… Sideswipe is making some rounds near you tomorrow; he may be able to get it to you sooner,” Sunstreaker said absently mindedly as he confirmed the transfer of funds to his account.

     “There is no rush,” Optimus replied, optics roving over the floor to ceiling painting. It was an abstract piece, not one of Sunstreaker’s favorites, but the Prime had been almost instantly attracted to the black and white colors. Optimus had said it was calming to him, despite the oft jagged lines and dizzying swirls. Sunstreaker thought it was rather the opposite. But Prime was Prime; if he deemed something to be soothing, Sunstreaker wasn’t going to argue.

     “Unlike other certain matters,” Prime added apropos of nothing, voice firming. His serious gaze met Sunstreaker’s startled optics. “While I am not directly involved in the Festival committee, I am partial to much of the going ons surrounding those events. Magnus personally informed me of you and your brother’s petition to enter some of the races.”

     “Yes. We’re hoping they get back to us soon,” Sunstreaker said, once more reminded of their application’s denial. He still laid the blame for that largely at his twin’s feet.

     “Why do you want to enter in the first place?” Optimus asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

     Sunstreaker glanced around. There were in the far end of the gallery and Ironhide had made sure everyone had kept their distance during the discussion of Optimus’ purchase. The bodyguard himself had his back to them, standing a few feet away.

     “To win our prospective mate’s attentions, of course!” he replied, smiling brightly. It was the default answer to the question they knew they would be asked.

     Many knew of the rife between himself and his brother, but none of their acquaintances or even friends were aware of just how deeply the discontent between them went. And despite his admiration for the spiritual leader of their race, Sunstreaker also didn’t feel as if their real reason for entering was anyone business but their own.

     Optimus frowned slightly, and Sunstreaker’s smile slipped a little. Orion had been incredibly perceptive; did that trait transfer over with the acquisition of the Matrix of Leadership?

     “I have never heard of a set of spark-split twins taking on a mate before,” Optimus commented idly.

     Sunstreaker gracefully shrugged one shoulder, trying to play it off. “Well. You know us. We’re not typical, even for twins.”

     “That is true,” Optimus replied, nodding slowly. “Regardless, I wish you the best of luck. In both the petition and the races, if you are allowed to participate.”

     “Thank you,” Sunstreaker said, bowing his head. “We’re hoping to hear a response tomorrow or the next day. At least before the race of Primus.”

     “It may take longer than that,” Optimus cautioned, making Sunstreaker’s spark sink. “This is an unprecedented request and must be deliberated upon carefully. Your situation is unique; in particular, your medical records will be closely examined as your twinned existence gives you both unique benefits.”

     Sunstreaker sucked in a calming ventilation before nodding. His first instinct was to protest; but this was the Prime and he deserved utmost respect no matter their former affiliations. The mech had also just admitted to having nothing to do with the committee’s decision.

     “Yes, sir. You’re right of course. We just want a chance, however.”

     “I’m sure the committee will take all points under consideration,” Optimus said, reaching out and patting Sunstreaker on the shoulder. “You will be in my prayers.”

     “Thank you, sir. Would you like to continue touring the rest of the gallery?” Sunstreaker inquired, knowing there was nothing else left to say on the Festival subject.

     “Yes, absolutely. I got a little ahead of myself, perhaps,” Optimus replied with a smile. “This painting spoke to me, but I know you have much more on display. There are a few creation day celebrations occurring within my staff over the next few months; perhaps I will find something inspiring for one of them.”

     Sunstreaker blinked at Optimus, once more reminded of the inherently kind spark the mech had. That hadn’t changed since his transformation into a Prime. “There is quite a bit more to see, yes. Follow me.”

     “Of course. Oh, before we do. I keep forgetting… you have a smudge of something just there,” Optimus informed him, pointing to his own cheek in demonstration.

     Mortified, Sunstreaker’s hand flew up to cover the spot. Dirt? On his face?? How long had that been there?!

\--

     Another painting and a small sculpture transferred ownership to the Prime that evening as well. Sunstreaker spent nearly the entire event at Optimus’ side, chatting with both the Prime and Ironhide. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed their company, even after all these years.

     When Optimus decided to call it a night, Sunstreaker walked both of them to the exit. Optimus paused before it, letting Ironhide proceed him, and took the opportunity to hand over a data chip to Sunstreaker, tucking it into his palm.

     “If ever you or Sideswipe ever need anything, this will gain you a quicker audience with me,” Optimus said, smiling. “It will not be instantaneous… some mechs are a bit overzealous with my safety,” he commented with a slight optic roll in Ironhide’s direction.

     “Can never be too safe,” Ironhide replied without looking, optics scanning the street in front of the gallery.

     “Mmm. I appreciate all you do, old friend,” Optimus fondly called fondly to his bodyguard before turning back around to Sunstreaker. “Tell your brother good night. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak more.”

     “You’re not missing much,” Sunstreaker replied absently, examining the unobtrusive chip.  When he looked up to bid Optimus good evening, he caught sight of the Prime looking back with a sad expression on his faceplates. He opened his mouth and then shook his head, instead reaching out to pat Sunstreaker on the shoulder.

     “Anything at all,” Optimus repeated firmly. “Good night, Sunstreaker.”

     Sunstreaker cocked his head to the side in confusion and stared after Optimus until he transformed into his alt mode and drove off, Ironhide following behind faithfully. What had saddened the Prime? Was he really that disappointed he hadn’t talked more with Sideswipe? Or maybe Optimus was just lonely; Sunstreaker imagined the position was isolating.

     Tucking the data chip into subspace, Sunstreaker vowed to force Sideswipe to deliver the paintings tomorrow. Both fast service and another friendly face for Optimus to see and perhaps chat with for a little while.

     And speaking of his brother… where _was_ the little miscreant?

\--

     “You are unbelievable,” Sunstreaker spat, shoving his brother up against the wall. “A Senator? Really? What were you thinking?!”

     Sideswipe sullenly glared back at him, swaying in place. He stank of high grade and interfacing fluids, and Sunstreaker pushed away from him with a noise of disgust.

     “Oh, you know… buy a painting, get a taste of this,” Sideswipe slurred, waving a hand at himself.

     Sunstreaker stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, mouth working, but unable to actually produce words. Then they finally came. He threw his hands up in the air and began pacing, doing his best to keep his voice from carrying through the storeroom doors and out into the rest of the gallery. It was still half full of guests and he hadn’t planned on staying away for this long. Only to refill the energon dispensers. But instead, he had stumbled upon one of the Senate members hastily wiping himself down, Sideswipe sprawled at his feet, array bared shamelessly.

     “Did you really offer that?” Sunstreaker hissed, absolutely furious. “I can’t believe you!”

     Sideswipe straightened, still using the wall as a support. “’Course not. But Hardline’s in charge of business permits. The gallery… both of them, actually… just got a permanent extension. No yearly renewals,” he announced proudly. “And yeah… he bought that gear sculpture thing. But that was before the fragging.”

     Sunstreaker came to a halt in front of his brother, ventilating hard, and hands clenched into fists. “That’s not… you didn’t need to _do_ that,” he snarled.

     “Didn’t need to, no. But I thought it would make things a little easier for you in the long run,” Sideswipe replied with a shrug.

     Sunstreaker gave into temptation and punched Sideswipe in the shoulder. Not as hard as he wanted to, but hard enough to create a shallow dent. “I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your shady dealings associated with my work!!”

     “It’s not _shady_ ,” Sideswipe insisted, clutching his arm with a wince. “It’s just a little agreement between friends.”

     “You mean between a whore and his trick!” Sunstreaker spat vehemently. 

     Sideswipe jerked back, hurt flashing across his faceplates before anger replaced it. “I’m not a _whore!_ I’m a merchant – I just provide what people want. And if it’s a quick frag, than so what? It doesn’t mean anything. How do you think we got the money to open the first gallery? You don’t really think it was because of private sales, do you?”

     Sunstreaker stared at his brother in shock. “You said…”

     “I lied!” Sideswipe shouted, throwing his hands up in the air with an exasperated flick of his energy field. “You were so proud of the money you _were_ getting. But it wasn’t enough. Not in time anyway; there was another bidder on that building and we needed the money fast.”

     “There were other buildings!”

     Sunstreaker’s head swam with the implications. They had purchased the first gallery over three years ago now. Which meant that Sideswipe had been selling sexual favors before their therapist had ever encouraged them to see other mecha. They had been having difficulties for far longer than that, but the realization of Sideswipe’s extracurricular activities stung.

     “You said that one was perfect. That you ‘had to have it’,” Sideswipe repeated using air quotes. He sagged back against the wall, looking miserable. “You know I’ll do anything for you. To get you what you want.”

     Sunstreaker shook his head rapidly and took a step backwards, away from his twin and towards the warmth of the gallery. “You are unbelievable,” he whispered, spark twisting in his chest. “All of this… it’s not worth it.”

     “But you are,” Sideswipe returned. As if that made it all better. Sunstreaker didn’t know how to even begin to respond to that.

     “Sideswipe…”

     A raised voice beyond the storeroom doors made Sunstreaker trail off and look over his shoulder. He had spent far too long back here as it was. When he turned back around, Sideswipe was frowning at the doors.

     “Go on. They’re probably looking for you,” Sideswipe replied, an odd tone in his voice. He brushed at his thighs; it was a futile endeavor, merely spreading the fluids around. “You have people to impress. You want me to clean up and come back out?”

     “No,” Sunstreaker replied decisively. He wanted his brother rather far away from his patrons, so there wasn’t a chance of any more incidents. “Stay here. Clean up, but stay here. We’ll talk after everyone’s left.”

     Sideswipe ex-vented so heavily Sunstreaker was certain his twin’s air intake would collapse. “Fine. Go sell yourself to the masses. Oh. I’m sorry, I mean go sell your art,” he replied snidely.

     Sunstreaker drew himself up to his full height, gritting his denta together. “If you really knew anything about me, you’d know that I _am_ my art,” he retorted hotly. Then he whirled on one pede and left the room, doing his best to school his expression into one which didn’t reflect the strut deep hurt he was experiencing.

     Sideswipe didn’t understand him at _all_. And he barely understood Sideswipe any more either. Would winning themselves a chance to court a mate even be worth the effort?

 

~ End Chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe talks with a business associate; Sunstreaker comes home to a surprise

                Sideswipe waited until the door shut behind his brother and then let himself fall to his knees, the joints too wobbly to support his frame. Why had he done that? Why had he told Sunstreaker those things he had promised himself he would always keep hidden from his brother?

                It was the derision on Sunstreaker’s face, Sideswipe finally decided. He wasn’t a whore, damnit. It wasn’t like he was out ‘facing every night or anything. Just when the situation offered up an opportunity too good to pass up and could only be bought by his frame. But Sunstreaker would never see it that way. And he would realize, if he hadn’t already, that Sideswipe had been doing it before their therapist had ever suggested seeing other mechs.

                Of course, Sideswipe had been ‘facing others even while he and Sunstreaker had been getting along, as far back as to their time growing up on the streets. Money had been scarce and a sly smile and a pop of his panel got them energon and a roof over their heads more times than Sideswipe could count. But he had always been careful to make sure Sunstreaker never knew. At first because Sideswipe knew his twin would feel guilty. And lately… well, now it was just another piece of ammunition in the war brewing between them.

                Sideswipe shook his head, pushing himself back to his feet. He didn’t regret it. They were living comfortably, and Sunstreaker’s galleries were booming. Everything he had done was worth it to ensure Sunstreaker could have all he’d ever wanted. Sideswipe just wished he could get a ‘thank you’ instead of a ‘frag you’ every once in a while.

                Shaking his head, Sideswipe dug in his subspace pocket until he found a cloth. He yanked it out, idly noting it was one of Sunstreaker’s before wiping himself down. He needed a wash, but he was clean enough to walk home. Not that he could at the moment. His head was swimming; the energon they had served was deceptively strong and Sideswipe had consumed a little more than he probably should have. Some fresh air would clear his head.

                Then he’d leave. Because Sunstreaker sure as the Pit wasn’t going to hurry back to him and the gallery wasn’t set to close for several more hours.

                He made his way out the delivery entrance, holding onto the wall as balance. Once outside, he found an abandoned crate and kicked it over so he could plop down onto it. He stretched his legs out with a groan, leaning his head back against the wall.

                When had things gotten so fragged up between him and Sunstreaker? Sideswipe didn’t even know where to begin to repair things. And every now and then he wondered if he even should.

                “Well, lookie here, Brawl. Just the mech I was coming to see,” a voice said, jerking Sideswipe out of his hazy reverie. He onlined his optics, jerking up straight and cursing himself for being so out of it that he hadn’t noticed the other mechs’ approach.

                One large shape eclipsed that of his smaller companion, both of their frames blocking the exit from the alley. As they walked closer, Sideswipe realized he knew the mech who had spoken and he groaned internally.

                Great. Swindle. Just what he needed tonight.

                “Swindle!” Sideswipe exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and doing his best to not sway in place. “Good to see you, my mech! How’re things down at the docks?”

                “Not bad, not bad,” Swindle returned, coming to a stop a few feet away. He propped his hands on his hips, looking down at Sideswipe with an irritated expression. “Except for yesterday when I got raided while holding on to your goods. Word on the street is that you is moving up in the world. Making friends with Enforcers and burning bridges behind you as you go. That what that was yesterday? You burning this bridge?” Swindle asked moving the point of his index finger between Sideswipe and himself.

                Sideswipe made to stand but Swindle’s silent friend took two large steps forward and slammed him back down. As drunk as he was, Sideswipe thought it best to stay put.

                “Swindle, no!” Sideswipe protested. “That totally wasn’t me! We’re not friends or anything, but that’s still bad business.”

                “Yer damn straight it’s bad business!” Swindle snarled. “My license was suspended for the next week while they investigate; I’m gonna lose at least half a mil!”

                “Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that, Swin, but like I said, not my fault,” Sideswipe repeated, feeling a coil of unease unfurl in his lines. “No one gives me a deal as good as you. Do you really think I wanna find another importer?”

                “No. No, I’m sure you don’t,” Swindle replied, rolling his shoulders as he calmed himself. “Because I’m the best there is, even if I gotta watch my back for the next few months. So how are we gonna fix this?”

                “Fix this?” Sideswipe repeated, incredulous. “What’s there to fix? If they’re investigating, then they probably confiscated my stuff. We’re both losing here. Let’s just put it past us and we’ll be a little more careful next time.”

                Swindle squinted his optics at Sideswipe and was silent for a long, tense moment. Then he threw his hands up, nodding and smiling. “Careful. Yeah, sure. But how about in the meantime, you show me a gesture of goodwill, huh?”

                “Gesture of goodwill? Well… I got a bunch of real fancy high grade if you want a glass,” Sideswipe said, pushing himself back to his feet and taking a step towards the delivery entrance. And possible safety.

                Brawl grabbed him again, but this time, he forced Sideswipe to his knees. A large hand wrapped itself around Sideswipe’s throat and squeezed, sharp fingers pressing against Sideswipe’s energon tubing on the left side of his neck. It was a clear warning, and as sluggish as his body was being, Sideswipe took heed.

Swindle wouldn’t kill him. Rough him up a little maybe, but he’d have to be pretty circumspect because of Sideswipe’s connections. He was half tempted to comm for Prowl, but that would just add more fuel to the fire. And Swindle really _was_ the cheapest importer to work with.

                “You’re gonna probably want some later,” Swindle purred, stepping forward and caressing his lower belly. “To wash my spunk down with. And Brawl’s.”

                Internally, Sideswipe sighed. See? Just another situation to use his frame as a solution for.

\--

                It was so late by the time Sunstreaker got home that Sideswipe half thought his brother had found someone pretty to shack up with for the night. Probably Mirage, that prissy fragger. Sideswipe regretted having ever introduced his brother to the noble, no matter how much Sunstreaker had benefited from it. Sideswipe just couldn’t shake the feeling that Mirage wanted something else from Sunstreaker; something sinister.

                ‘Course, it _could_ just be his jealous paranoia talking.

                They each had once weekly separate sessions with their therapist, in addition to their couples’ visit. It had taken several months working with Rung for Sideswipe to even admit he had a problem regarding Sunstreaker. He had thought all their issues had been his brother’As fault, but Rung had opened Sideswipe’s optics recently. Didn’t mean that he’d made any headway in that area though.

                Sunstreaker entered their apartment quietly, flicking on a lamp in the living room and putting a few items away with an irritated sigh. Which meant they were probably Sideswipe’s. Only something pertaining to Sideswipe could provoke that particular annoyed ex-vent. Sometimes Sideswipe did things just to hear it. Even negative attention was better than being ignored.

                Once Sunstreaker finished, he made his way down the hall to the sleeping quarters. He bypassed the open door to Sideswipe’s room without pausing and walked into the washroom, flicking on the overhead light. He started humming to himself as he turned on the water in the shower stall.

                Moments later, the humming quieted with a quiet exclamation of shock and Sideswipe tensed. He had nodded off there for a while; was someone else in the house? Did they follow him home? Was Sunstreaker in danger? Sideswipe sat up, optics darting around frantically.

                “Sideswipe? Sideswipe, there’s blood in here, what happened?” Sunstreaker called out, the water turning back off.

                Oh. Oops. Apparently Sideswipe hadn’t cleaned up as well as he thought he had. He hurriedly laid back down as Sunstreaker moved out of the washroom and strode down the hallway. As Sunstreaker hit the light switch, Sideswipe buried himself further in his pillows as he if he just woken up.

                “Ugh. Go’way. What’re you talking about?” Sideswipe moaned, slurring his words to give the impression that he was still drunk. He was, a little, but nowhere near as much as when he had left the gallery.

                “Are you hurt?” Sunstreaker demanded, standing over him. “There’s some drops of energon on the floor in the washroom.”

                “Just tripped on the walk home,” Sideswipe muttered, refusing to look at his brother.

                There was silence for several moments in which Sideswipe could practically feel Sunstreaker’s gaze boring into the back of his helm. Then hands landed on his shoulders, tugging. Sideswipe whined a protest and did his best to resist the pull to roll over.

                “Just let me sleep, Sunny, I’m fine,” Sideswipe grumbled, but it was only half-sparked. Despite everything, Sunstreaker was touching him at least.

                “And why didn’t you wait for me? If you’re fine, then let me see. Sideswipe, for Primus’ sake, turn over and let me… oh.”

                With an almighty yank, Sunstreaker finally managed to get Sideswipe facing him. After one look at Sunstreaker’s aghast expression, Sideswipe averted his gaze and rubbed at his mouth. Gently. Because Brawl was definitely proportional.

                “This is not because you tripped,” Sunstreaker said softly, leaning over the bed to get a closer look at Sideswipe’s injuries. “What happened?”

                “Nothing,” Sideswipe muttered petulantly. “It’s really nothing.”

                “ _Sideswipe_ ,” Sunstreaker replied, clear warning in his voice.

                Sideswipe sighed and pushed himself up the bed a little to prop his shoulders up on the pillows. “One of my business associates came to see me. Swindle. You probably don’t remember him…”

                Sunstreaker’s mouth twisted in distaste. “I remember him. Slimy little fellow. What did he want? Surely he didn’t do this to you. Even drunk, you’re better than that.”

                “Well, he brought one of _his_ business associates with him. Brawl. Big bruiser type. Taller than Orion and wider than ‘Hide. And they weren’t too happy that the Enforcers did a random sweep and caught him holding some of my goods,” Sideswipe explained. “He thought maybe I tipped the Enforcers off. I didn’t, but Swindle doesn’t believe that.”

                “Are you going to get into trouble? Is it going to come back on me or the gallery?” Sunstreaker asked worriedly.

                Figured. The art was all Sunstreaker cared about.

                “No. Because unlike Swindle, I follow protocol and have all my permits in place. He doesn’t, which isn’t my fault. You precious gallery is safe,” Sideswipe spat, shutting his optics and letting his head rest against the wall. “Now just leave me alone.”

                Sunstreaker didn’t reply, and Sideswipe thought he would actually leave. But to Sideswipe’s surprise, there is a dip in the mattress next to him and the bare brush of his brother’s energy field against his. Sideswipe’s optics fly open to see Sunstreaker sitting on the bed, leaning over to better look at Sideswipe’s injuries. Sunstreaker reaches out a hand and traces the edge of Sideswipe’s mouth.

                “I can understand the rest,” Sunstreaker said, referring to the multitude of dents from punches, “but what happened here?”

                Sideswipe’s lips twisted into a wry grin, the plating of his face tingling from Sunstreaker’s touch. “Apparently my reputation as a whore proceeds me.”

                It took longer than Sideswipe thought it would for Sunstreaker to get the implication. Once he did, he jerked back, snarling. “You’re not a whore! How dare they use you like that!?”

                Sideswipe shrugged, a little surprised at Sunstreaker’s anger. And his hypocrisy. Apparently only Sunstreaker was allowed to call Sideswipe names.

                “Well, it calmed Swindle down some anyway. Don’t worry about it; it’s under control,” Sideswipe replied.

                “Yes, I can see that,” Sunstreaker snapped. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

                “Well, where else would I go?” Sideswipe wondered aloud, watching his twin rush out of the room. Unfortunately Sunstreaker moved too quickly for Sideswipe to truly appreciate the view.

                Via his audials, Sideswipe traced Sunstreaker’s steps back to the washroom. The creak of the cabinet door proceeded rummaging sounds within and then Sunstreaker began walking back. He entered the room carrying several vials and a pack of cleansing cloths.

                “I already cleaned up,” Sideswipe protested, watching Sunestreaker move forward with a determined look in his optics.

                “Poorly,” Sunstreaker scoffed. “You didn’t even treat those cuts properly.”

                Sideswipe sighed, jerking his head to the side when Sunstreaker knelt on the edge of the bed and reached for him. “Let me rust in peace. Then I’ll be out of your diodes once and for all. ”

                “That’s not acceptable,” Sunstreaker retorted, making a rebellious part of Sideswipe’s processor sit up in interest. “I promised the Prime that you would be by tomorrow with his pieces.”

                “Of course you did,” Sideswipe said, sighing again in disappointment. Primus forbid Sunstreaker would actually miss him if Sideswipe died. “What do you want me to say about all this?” he asked gesturing to his face and chest.

                “You were practicing for the Festival. Things got a little heated between you and your sparring partner,” Sunstreaker replied promptly, firmly grasping Sideswipe’s chin to dab one of the clothes against a tear in his cheek plating.

                “I miss sparring with you,” Sideswipe murmured absently, optics drinking in the sight of his brother’s face so close to his own. Sunstreaker’s optics were just so _pretty_ …

                 Sunstreaker’s motions paused as he regarded Sideswipe. “You know we both agreed it was for the best,” he replied softly, a shadow of… something… passing over his face.

                He was referring of course to the multiple times in the past when a simple spar had morphed into them trying to kill one another in the heat of the moment. They had never not competed with one another, but this past year they had taken it to a whole new level.

                “Yeah… doesn’t mean I don’t miss it though.”

                “You miss me trouncing you three out of five bouts?” Sunstreaker commented archly, raising an orbital ridge.

                Sideswipe offlined his optics, going limp in Sunstreaker’s grasp. “Even then,” he replied lowly.

                Sunstreaker made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, probably expecting Sideswipe to say something scathing instead. But Sideswipe just didn’t have the effort for it and he would gladly be beaten every time if it only meant Sunstreaker would look at him again with something other than disdain.

                Both of them fell silent, and Sunstreaker continued to clean the multitude of cuts across Sideswipe’s chest and face. He fell asleep like that, his brother’s fingers gentle against his plating and the sharp tang of nanite gel tickling his nasal sensors.

 

~ End Chapter


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